On Board
by InSilva
Summary: Set between O12 and O13. In which a friend's best intentions lead to discomfort and no escape. Warnings for no violence. But there is certainly some profanity.  Complete.
1. Chapter 1

On Board by InSilva

Disclaimer: None of them mine, sadly. Still hopeful.

A/N: am being nagged to post. No, not by her. Well. No more than usual. :) And otherhawk is currently denying I have artistic talent. Le sigh.

Summary: Set between O12 and O13. In which a friend's best intentions lead to discomfort and no escape. Warnings for no violence. But there is certainly some profanity.

* * *

_Reuben had meant well; of that, Rusty was sure. It didn't mean he wasn't going to kill him when he caught up with him._

* * *

When he'd found out Rusty had bought the Standard Hotel, Reuben had been highly delighted and anxious to share the wisdom of experience in the same way that Saul did. Unlike Saul, Reuben's expertise embraced a sizeable chunk of legitimate.

"Let me help, Rusty," Reuben had said. "This is something I know something about. Indulge me."

And that had led to a weekend spent with Reuben, trying to absorb what he could and to fit Reuben's generalisms around what he knew he wanted to do with the Standard.

Rusty had a plan to update and modernise and freshen up the tired and the worn. He had a plan to ask without asking for commitment from his staff and to lead by example. He had a plan to use his contacts within Hollywood to publicise and to launch.

Reuben hadn't wanted to talk about that; at least, not so much as he had wanted to talk about his main message.

"Your bottom line. You need to watch your costs above everything. People get caught up in chasing revenue and they don't look at the other side of the balance sheet. The empty vanity of sales, they call it."

He'd puffed on his cigar and Dominic had appeared with a light lunch and Rusty had smiled and nodded.

The trouble was that Rusty had no trouble keeping track of costs when a job was involved. He might not have Reuben's quickfire mathematical brain but he was certainly able to add and subtract. The hotel business, however, appeared to be the next stage up of accounting: accruals and prepayments and amortization and depreciation and assets and bad debt and Rusty's head started to ache. It surely couldn't be that difficult.

A few years on and Rusty was still convinced it couldn't be that difficult. He had figured out the details of how to get in to any number of impossible places and out again. Impossible was what he did best. Surely he could cope with a hotel. Except that somehow, the hotel accounts were like the tar baby in the Brer Rabbit story. Silent and yet demanding attention and all in all, a sticky situation.

Generating funds to keep the hotel afloat had become second nature and when he'd hesitantly explained to Isabel, she'd asked only that he be careful.

Danny had been amused and had asked the same thing.

Reuben had been horrified.

"You can't survive like that! Think of the long-term! You think you should want to be pulling jobs at my age?"

Actually, Rusty thought he probably did. In any case, he thought he was at one of the more content places in his life. Danny on the end of a phone (or occasionally visitor or host), Isabel, the hotel and the heists. It was a comfortable balance of the settled and the restless.

Reuben didn't stop worrying about him and it was a different kind of worry to that which permeated Saul. It was almost funny.

"Rusty, promise me that you're looking at the economic climate and taking into account the…what? Yeah, I'm fine. No, I am, really. Dominic's keeping an eye on my diet whether I want him to or not. Saul came by to see me the other week…"

* * *

"He means well."

"I know he does."

_Doesn't make it any easier._

_You got it._

Isabel was away and Danny was visiting and he'd just witnessed the Rusty side of one of the conversations.

"He sent this over for Christmas."

Danny caught the envelope and pulled out the gilt-edged invitation.

"Huh. I got socks." He studied the elegant script. "The EHOA invites you to join their seminar…learn the secrets of success…only a select few…"

He looked up at Rusty. "EHOA? Sounds like you're saying hello in another language."

"Elite Hotel Owners Association." Rusty pulled a face. "He made me a life member for my birthday."

"And this…?"

"This is an away weekend. A chance to be guided by the best minds in the business. To learn from experience."

Danny grinned and Rusty sighed.

"How bad do you think it would be if I didn't go?"

The grin grew sympathetic but the answer was clear.

"Yeah," Rusty nodded morosely. "That's what I thought."

"Maybe you could just-"

"Can you lie to Reuben any better than you can lie to Saul?"

Danny screwed up his face.

_Wouldn't be easy._

"Wouldn't stop him either. He'd just book me on to the next one."

Danny looked down at the invitation again. "This is this weekend."

"Yeah."

"You've taken this long to decide you haven't decided whether you're going?"

"I've taken this long to decide that I still haven't decided how I can get out of it."

There was an obvious ask in there and Danny had the sudden image of Rusty running through a hundred and ten different excuses and their impact. Danny pursed his lips and thought long and hard and then shook his head regretfully.

"That's what I thought," Rusty said despondently.

* * *

The venue was imposing, stylish, high-class and oozing five stars. Everything that would be expected by members of the EHOA. It was also afloat.

Holdall in hand, Rusty stared up at the luxury ocean liner, the air of despondency still hanging over him.

"Looks nice," Danny commented, standing beside him, hands in pockets, his own holdall at his feet.

"According to the literature that came with the invitation, it's new," Rusty said with a gloomy air. "Launched a few months ago."

"I'm so glad I came to see you off before I headed back."

Rusty shot him a sideways glare and then his bottom lip moved fractionally.

_Da-nny…_

Danny's lips twitched. "Do you really think that's still going to work after all these years?"

There was a heavy sigh and a doleful silence. Danny left him hanging for a moment and then relented.

"Come on. I told Tess I'd be back on Monday. Let's get on board."

Rusty's smile was immediate and Danny could see how grateful he really was because there was not even a hint of retribution for the teasing in store.

* * *

As they walked up the gangplank, there was a last call for all those who were going ashore to go ashore.

_No._

_But-_

_Reuben._

_Damn you._

Signage encouraged EHOA delegates towards a conference suite outside which there was a table with three name badges and a redhead. The redhead wore a badge declaring her to be Klareese and she smiled prettily at them and they both smiled prettily back. She blinked at them, a little wide-eyed and their smiles dimmed down to the right side of blinding.

"My name is Rusty Ryan," Rusty said, flashing his invitation.

"Welcome, Rusty. Oh, it is good to see you. I was worrying that you wouldn't make it in time. My name is Klareese." She handed him a badge with his name on. "I will be your facilitator this weekend."

"Klareese."

Her eyes travelled over to Danny and Danny's eyes crinkled. Distraction. Charm. Allow Rusty time to read upside down. Allow Rusty time to pass his own invite to him surreptitiously.

"And you are…?"

"This is Corbett Branson," Rusty explained. "We just met on the way up here."

"Oh, that's good!" Klareese said happily, taking the invitation from Danny and looking as if she wanted to clap her hands. "You've broken the ice already."

Danny's badge firmly in place, Klareese looked over their shoulders and then sighed.

"We're still missing Grace Fuller but I think we should make a start. Please go in and find a seat."

She pushed open the door to the suite and ushered them in.

"Thank you for not making me Grace Fuller," Danny murmured.

"Quite impossible," Rusty muttered back.

Danny's eyes narrowed but Rusty's expression remained innocent.

* * *

There was a boardroom table with seven men seated and four empty chairs dotted round it, two of them together. They gravitated naturally towards them and sat down.

"Everyone, we have two new arriv…" Klareese began and then frowned. "Where…?"

The man sitting the other side of the table from them – Walter Christie, according to his name badge - stirred in his seat and indicated the empty chair opposite Rusty. "He's just using the facilities."

"Well, we'll wait," Klareese smiled brightly and if there was any annoyance at the delay it was professionally masked.

Rusty and Danny exchanged a casual look of amusement and then the laughter faded away from Danny's face. Rusty frowned.

_What?_

But the what didn't need to be answered because walking back from the bathroom, straightening his cuffs with a disdainful fastidiousness, was Terry Benedict.

He sat down in his chair and then looked up, saw them and the scowl was immediate and fierce as he half-rose and leaned forward .

"What are you-?"

"Terry," Klareese interrupted. "Now you're back-"

Terry wasn't listening. The snarl was all in the voice. "You think you're going to-"

"Terry!"

Klareese's voice was just this side of stern and Terry seemed to realise where he was. He composed himself and sat back in his chair, glared warnings at them and when he spoke, his voice held restrained anger.

"My apologies, Klareese. Do continue."

Terry's eyes said that this was by no means finished.

* * *

A/N: yes, yes, yes. Danny, Rusty and Terry on a boat. Again. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

On Board by InSilva

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Just sneaking 'em out of the window and down the drainpipe for a little while.

* * *

Housekeeping rules over – no mobile phones switched on, no smoking and what to do if the alarm sounded which strayed worryingly into Titanic territory - Klareese beamed round the table.

"Welcome, everyone. This weekend is going to change your lives. Let's begin with a little icebreaker. I want you to tell everybody your name and two things about yourself. One truth and one lie. Everyone else gets to decide which is which. Who wants to go first?"

Danny's hand went up immediately.

"Corbett?"

"My name is Corbett Branson. And either I've robbed three Las Vegas casinos in one night or I've run the New York Marathon in under three hours."

Rusty's grin was everywhere except his face. Oh, this could be _fun._

* * *

"Thank you, Rusty." Klareese said with an indulgent smile. "So, everyone, do we think Rusty once went out with Gwyneth Paltrow or was a SWAT officer for a brief time?"

Discussion erupted around the table. Under Terry's stony gaze, Danny moved his head slightly and leaned in towards Rusty.

"It doesn't count if they're both true," he murmured.

"They're not both true," Rusty replied in an equally low voice. "I dated Gwyneth more than once."

"Terry, your turn," Klareese prompted.

Terry's mouth was tight and his eyes were doing the thing where you really wanted to blink for him.

"My name is Terry Benedict," he announced and paused.

As absolutely no gasps of awe met the pronouncement, Rusty didn't dare glance at Danny.

"Hearing what everyone else has shared, I'm tempted to come out with something outrageous. Like I've been in a serious relationship with another man's wife. Or I've blown up a vintage Mustang just for the hell of it. Or the story about rounding up the Mormons, the circus performer, the geek…" you know, that sounds like the start to a joke."

The urge to laugh had long since died.

"However." Terry sat back in his chair and waved an expansive hand. "I'll settle for either I can speak fluent Japanese or I once bankrupted a man's tractor dealership."

Someone – Larry Forbes – laughed and Terry smiled.

"It was kinder than having his brother-in-law driven out into the desert to dig his own grave."

Larry's laughter tailed off nervously and then there were a couple of half-chuckles from people who'd listened and decided it had to be a joke.

Klareese cleared her throat. "So, gentlemen. What do we think? Does Terry look like a linguist?"

"That another word for smug bastard?" Danny muttered.

* * *

Refreshments arrived and everyone stood up to stretch their legs. Chatter continued in little pockets around the room. Terry took the opportunity to corner the pair of them.

"I don't know what you're doing here," he began at once. "But it had better not be anything to do with me."

"Relax, Terry," Danny told him. "We're off the job."

"Really, _Corbett_." Terry considered for a moment. "You know I could blow your cover right now."

That was true. And yet – although there had been digs aplenty - Terry hadn't said a word to expose him. In fact, he'd been anxious to avoid a scene. So that meant something else was going on here and Danny didn't know what and he was absolutely confident that Rusty didn't have a clue either. However, that didn't mean Terry couldn't and wouldn't kick off and then...

And then Reuben would hear because nothing _ever _escaped Reuben. And there was just the chance that Reuben might think that Rusty wasn't taking this hotel thing seriously. Worse, that Rusty thought this EHOA present was one big joke. Oh, Danny wouldn't ever want to see that hurt on Reuben's face.

"Relax, Terry," he heard Rusty saying. "I'm a member of the EHOA and I'm here for the seminar."

Terry was still frowning.

"He does run a hotel," Danny advised conspiratorially.

Terry glared at him. "What about you?"

"He's thinking of buying one," Rusty supplied.

The glare shifted to Rusty and then back to Danny.

"I'm warning you," Terry muttered. "You mess this up for me and I'll…"

The threat trailed off as one of the other delegates approached. Terry shot them one more dark glance and then took himself off.

_Any idea what that's all about?_

_Nope. _

"Excuse me." It was the other delegate. Peter Byram. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"No," Danny said slowly.

That was probably the right answer…

"Who the hell are you?" Peter asked him pleasantly.

"Corbett Bran-"

"No," Peter cut him off. "I know Corbett. He's a thin, weaselly little fellow. You've got more charisma in your little finger than he has in his whole body. So the question remains. Who the hell are you?"

No threat. Just curiosity. And really, there was only one way to go.

"He works for me," Rusty said with the sigh of one caught in a lie.

"We wanted to sneak an extra place at this seminar," Danny added with a suitable grimace.

Peter smiled. "Well, that's what I call initiative. Wish I'd thought of it. Don't worry, Corbett, your secret's safe with me."

"Gentlemen, please take your places." Klareese was summoning them. "It's time for the first of our videocasts."

* * *

The videocast was delivered by the founder of the Royal Review Board who proceeded to explain in depth about the criteria their inspectors looked for when they went off inspecting.

The tour around a hotel bedroom was accompanied by the hushed tones of the earnest presenter.

"_We wipe a finger underneath each tap – thus – to identify any shortfall in the cleanliness of the bathroom."_

"_We investigate the state of the bedlinen with an ultraviolet light – thus – to make sure the sheets, etc are fit to be slept in."_

"_We check the contents of the mini-bar – thus – to assure ourselves that the customers' requirements are fully met."_

Rusty hoped Terry was paying attention on the last point. He glanced round the table. In fact, all of the others including Terry seemed to be scribbling notes and pointers. Rusty wondered whether he ought to join in. Hell, now, even Danny was bent over his notepad intent on… Oh, that was alright. It was a doodle what looked like an empty box. Rusty frowned at it for a moment or two. Then Danny added a sad face and Rusty identified himself and a less than well-stocked mini-bar.

He glared at Danny but Danny carried on drawing nonetheless.

* * *

The second videocast was a tour around a winner of the Five Diamond Award, held up as a fine example of how a hotel should be run. The camera started in reception and worked its way through the bars and restaurants and up to one of the best rooms. Then it left the front of house and headed behind the scenes, through the back office, reservations, kitchens, housekeeping, stores…

All the staff were smartly dressed. All the staff were polite and helpful. All the staff wore plastic professional smiles. None of them had any of the personality and individuality that Rusty saw in his own team. There was no Arthur, earnest and keen to learn. No Kirsty, friendly and welcoming.

Rusty knew whom he'd rather work with.

* * *

Lunch was an elaborate buffet in an adjoining room. Danny watched amused as Rusty cast an approving eye over the spread.

"How are you doing?" he asked _sotto voce._

"OK," Rusty replied in equally quiet tones. "S'bearable."

Danny nodded. It was. Even with Terry. Terry was curiously on his best behaviour in spite of never passing up an opportunity to shoot them both looks of deep suspicion.

"And right now," Rusty added, picking up a plate, "it's even enjoyable."

Danny stood back. He knew better than to get between Rusty and a table of food.

* * *

After lunch, Klareese decided on a little energiser.

"What I want us to realise is that customers trust us. Implicitly. With their valuables, with their _happiness. _ As hotel owners, we have to own that trust. This next exercise is about giving and receiving that trust. I'm going to put you into pairs."

Everyone in the room was working beautifully with their partners. Well, not quite everyone. Klareese walked up to the Odd Couple. The dark-haired man was glaring at the blond as if he could skewer him by gaze alone. The blond was stood, arms folded and smiling.

"Now, then, Terry," Klareese began, "what's the problem?"

"He's not going to catch me."

"Oh, Terry, everyone feels that way. It's time to let go of your fear. It's time to let go of the need to control..."

"He is not going to catch me," Terry snapped.

Klareese sighed and turned to the other man.

"You're going to catch him, aren't you, Rusty?"

"Sure thing."

The smile on the blond's face was wide. Klareese knew how he felt but still she had to address it.

"We have to be sympathetic to one another's vulnerabilities," she gently chided. "Now, Terry..."

"He's not going to catch me."

"Terry, we've been over this. You're going to catch him, Rusty, right? Tell him. Convince him."

Rusty's eyes were bright. "I'm going to catch you, Terry," he said and it was genuine and sincere and everything Klareese would have wanted.

"There you go. Come on, Terry. At some point, you just have to trust..."

"I'm warning you," Terry muttered.

He turned his back on Rusty and breathed in and out three times before falling gracefully backwards. There was a loud thump and an exclamation. Klareese looked at Rusty in shock.

"Oops?" he suggested.

There was a loud snort from the other side of the room that Rusty knew without looking round belonged to Danny. And there were other little half-choked laughs. Everyone was watching.

He stood and kept the smile in place as Terry scrambled to his feet, eyes flashing, snarl all over his face, vitriol just ready to burst out of him. Rusty raised an eyebrow, knowing it would provoke, waiting for the explosion.

The explosion never came. Instead, Terry seemed to realise he had an audience and Rusty could _see _the effort Terry was taking to swallow his anger.

"Accidents happen," Terry said coldly.

Rusty couldn't help the flicker of a frown. This wasn't Terry.


	3. Chapter 3

On Board by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own the boys. Wondering if there's a Christmas saving scheme though.

* * *

The customer service theme continued into the afternoon. Klareese circulated a case study and split them into twos and threes to capture the issues on a flipchart and to suggest remedies to present back to the group. Rusty listened to Peter Byram give a succinct summary, to Danny charm and to Terry pontificate.

"Who's going to present from the final group?" There was no rush to volunteer and a second too late, he saw Klareese's gaze fall on him. "Rusty?"

Whatever.

Rusty got to his feet and stood in front of the flipchart.

"The other groups have all raised valid points…"

He tailed off as he caught sight of Terry, rocking back in his chair, already dismissing him, already dismissing anything that he might offer. Rusty's lips tightened.

"Do go on," Klareese encouraged brightly.

Rusty stared at the flipcharted answers and felt the words bubbling up inside him. Oh, well…

"Look customer service is ridiculously simple. You have to have the IQ of a Tootsie Pop to screw it up."

That had their attention. Rusty turned over the flipchart pages till he found a clean sheet.

"Customers expect a level of service."

He drew a circle in blue marker pen on the paper.

"If they get _this _level-"

Another circle inside the first.

"-then they're not happy. If they get the level they're expecting, then they're satisfied but they're not impressed. If they get _this _level…"

A third circle around both of the others.

"…then they're going to remember you. The object is to exceed their expectations. The challenge is that those expectations are already high."

"So how do you know what to do?" Peter Byram and surprisingly, he sounded interested.

Rusty shrugged. "It isn't rocket science. Think about what you would want as a guest in a hotel. Then try and do better."

"Like what?" This from a curious Larry Forbes.

"In my hotel, we regularly brainstorm all aspects of service. We challenge ourselves to improve the customer experience-"

"Like what?" Terry managed to roll sharp and challenging effortlessly into a sneer.

"Like making sure our mini-bars are stocked for a start," Rusty retorted and Terry glared.

And then, because a couple of the others looked like they really wanted to know…

"…like with our conference and seminar events. Some delegates will stay the night before but some will arrive on the day itself. They'll have set off early to travel and we provide them with breakfast."

"For free?" Larry checked.

"For free. It doesn't cost much in the scheme of things and it's well received. It puts the delegates in a good mood and it kickstarts the event." He stopped suddenly and then gave an impatient shrug because self-conscious was never him. "It's about the wow factor."

There was a spontaneous buzz of conversation around the table. Rusty glanced at Danny whose eyes were alive with smile telling him he was never surprised and always delighted.

Rusty's eyes smiled back.

* * *

Afternoon break. Terry was stood at the other end of the room, glaring at them without looking in their direction.

"You think he's still mad about me not catching him?"

"Think he'll be mad about that for eternity. Don't imagine you'll get an invite round to his cloud."

_Oh, you're optimistic._

"Mmm."

_Mmm what?_

"Terry," Danny murmured. "Why is he on his best behaviour?"

"Terry Benedict?" Peter had wandered up and overheard the last comment. "Well, that's obvious."

As one, they turned to look at him.

Peter shrugged. "He's standing as President of the EHOA. If you ask me, this is part of his campaign trail – getting out and pressing the flesh."

"When's the election?" Danny frowned.

"At the annual conference next month. He's only got one serious opponent. Another guy out of Vegas."

_Another guy…_

"Who?" Danny asked, his voice low and intense and certain he already knew the answer.

"Reuben-"

"-Tishkoff," Rusty finished heavily.

"We know Reuben," Danny added.

"Didn't know he was standing against Terry, though."

"It was in all the EHOA promotional material," Peter told them and Danny seriously doubted Rusty had read that.

"Gentlemen?"

Summoned by Klareese, they headed back to their seats.

"Explains Terry being a good boy."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed. "Wouldn't want to blot his copybook."

"So now all of us are playing nicely."

"Should be interesting."

"Wonder how long it will last?"

* * *

The last session of the day was around supply chain challenges and Danny held the floor with a series of inventive lateral solutions. One of the suggestions seemed…not _familiar _exactly but Rusty thought he recognised the shape of it.

"Toodles?" he murmured.

"Never underestimate the potential of a Chihuahua," Danny agreed solemnly.

"Oh, never," Rusty nodded. He gave it a moment then added, "Especially one that has digestive problems."

Danny's look was interrupted by Klareese calling everyone to attention once more.

"Now, gentlemen, a little homework tonight. You need to understand exactly what your most discerning customers will be looking for when they book into one of your hotel rooms. So, you're going to work together in pairs to experience and document this."

_Well, _damn.

_Yeah._

They'd been looking forward to a night to relax and unwind. This seemed cruel and unusual punishment. Hopefully they could just dash through it and then order dessert. And, if Danny insisted, a main course as well.

_Rus!_

A hand brushing his arm brought Rusty back to the moment and away from chocolate cheesecake.

_Oh, no. _No. _That's…_

With sudden fear that he could feel rippling through Danny too, he watched Klareese produce five clipboards and five room keys.

"Klareese," Danny began but Klareese shushed him.

"Now to find out whom you're spending the night with – and no, I'm not one of the options." Klareese giggled at her own joke. "Right. I've written out your names. Let's start with you, Larry. Choose one of these strips of paper."

Obediently, Larry did so and unfolded it. "Corbett Branson."

Well, that was something. Not as good as being together, but it was something.

Peter Byram drew someone that was not Rusty.

Walter Christie drew someone that was not Terry.

Klareese handed out the pieces of paper for the final selection and Rusty _knew_ Danny was holding his breath.

Rusty stared at Terry and started willing things not to happen. Not possible, not possible, not possible. Terry's eyes were fierce and dark and telling him that he was equally excited about the thought. Not possible, not possible, not-

"So, you two are together and that leaves our final pair as Terry and Rusty," Klareese announced brightly.

To give Terry his due, he looked about as happy as Rusty did.

"Fuck," Danny said under his breath.

Yeah. That about had it.

Rusty was damned if he was going to kick up a fuss. Word was not going to get back to Reuben that he was proving awkward. It didn't look like Terry was going to object either: presumably it was frowned upon for prospective Presidents not to play the game.

"One of you take a key," Klareese trilled. "One of you take a clipboard."

Another time and Rusty would have offered a wry smile at Danny reaching immediately for a key. As it was, he was busy watching Terry snatch up a key before he himself could.

"You can ditch him," Danny muttered as they stood up and slung their holdalls over their shoulders. "Just head off to another cabin and fake the report. Not like Terry's going to mind."

It was an attractive suggestion. And it was absolutely what Rusty planned to do. Right up to the point where Klareese said:

"Remember, everyone, this is a core part of this weekend's activity. You need to take this very seriously. This is a live scenario. Anything can and will happen."

No ducking out. His absence could be noted.

"Come on, Ryan," Terry ordered. "Pick up your clipboard."

Danny's mouth tightened.

_Danny._

He saw Danny, with difficulty, let it go.

"If he so much as-"

"-then we can rob him all over again," Rusty said soothingly.

Danny looked only slightly mollified.

Reuben. They couldn't disgrace him.

"Any time today, Ryan," Terry suggested.

Reuben had meant well; of that, Rusty was sure. It didn't mean he wasn't going to kill him when he caught up with him.


	4. Chapter 4

On Board by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own 'em. This should not come as a surprise. ;)

* * *

Terry stalked off down the corridor, seemingly determined to speak to him as little as possible which was absolutely fine with Rusty. He trailed after Terry at a distance that was designed to be annoying.

The key took them down stairs. A long way down stairs and Rusty wasn't convinced that Terry knew exactly where he was going. He was certain they'd been along a couple of corridors more than once but he wasn't about to help Terry out: watching Terry's sense of self-comfort evaporating was fun.

The journey ended in a third-class cabin. Rusty seriously doubted Terry had _ever_ encountered third-class.

"All the keys and you had to choose this one. Way to go, Terry," Rusty murmured and was rewarded with a scowl as Terry opened the door.

The room was…the room was all things awful. Two bunk beds which weren't made up – all soiled, stained sheets. A pool of dubious liquid in the middle of the linoleum. And a really, _really_ bad smell. Rusty's nose wrinkled. This was worse than the London sewers with Basher. He skirted the puddle on the floor and stuck his head into the bathroom and then just as quickly pulled it back out. Really, _really_ bad smell's origin.

Terry was still stood by the door, mouth tight, imparting his displeasure at the cabin by glare alone.

Rusty's phone rang.

"Yeah."

"First-class cabin with a balcony."

"Figures."

"Terry?" And this was the reason for the call.

"Fine."

"That Ocean checking up on you?" Terry asked, the sneer loud in his voice.

Rusty could see Danny's face at the other end of the phone.

_Danny…_

"Hasn't he got any more casinos we can take?" Danny growled.

Rusty's lips twitched and watched Terry give the room one last fierce look as if daring it to transform into luxury and then depart in what was definitely a huff.

There was a sigh from the other end of the phone. "Am I being ridiculous?"

"Little bit." Rusty let the fondness bleed through in his voice.

"Look. Just you call me if-"

"If," Rusty agreed. Absolutely.

"Right." Danny sounded comforted. "See you in the morning."

"Right."

Rusty hung up and went to find out where Terry had got to. He found him outside haranguing a member of the ship's staff – a cleaner who was stood in front of his cleaning trolley, staring at Terry and looking vaguely terrified. Make that clearly terrified.

"You think this is funny? You going to tell me that this is a new ship and there's some sort of honeymoon period going on and I should be tolerant? I am not tolerant. Honeymoon or not, I am not staying the night in there!"

The man visibly flinched. Rusty stepped into the conversation.

"We can't sleep in there," he said softly, reasonably, indicating the room. "Please find us another cabin."

There was a moment's hesitation and then a nod.

"Please to follow me," the man said timidly.

A whispered conversation with a more senior member of staff who listened and clapped the cleaner on the shoulder in an _"I'll take it from here"_ gesture.

"Gentlemen, my apologies. My name is Phillippe and Javier has explained to me and I am deeply sorry."

"You know who I am?" Terry demanded.

Rusty looked at Phillippe curiously. It seemed seriously unlikely that the answer to that was-

"Yes, of course, sir," Phillippe said with a bow.

Terry looked mollified by the lie. But that was because Phillippe was giving him the answer he wanted.

Phillippe went on, "Please accept the regrets of-"

"What do you intend to do about it?" Terry interrupted coldly. "Because I have a lot of influence and I'd hate this ship's reputation to be sunk before it's started."

"Of course, sir," Phillippe said briskly. He pulled a key from his pocket. "This is one of our very best cabins."

* * *

The very best cabin was, in fact, a suite.

"This is more like it," Terry nodded. He dropped his holdall onto a couch and headed off to investigate the rest of the living space.

Rusty put down his bag and the clipboard and picked up the room service menu. He was hungry. Steak and red onion marmalade. Mmm. He turned to the desserts. Crème brulee or tiramisu… Crème brulee _and_ tiramisu…

Terry reemerged, face like thunder and headed straight for the door. Bemused, Rusty stared after him. Maybe the wallpaper was the wrong shade of plum.

Philippe had apparently not gone far. Terry's heated words floated through.

"_You _have_ to have another room. This is not at all suitable!"_

Rusty wandered further into the suite and stood in the doorway of a bedroom. Tastefully furnished with a king-sized bed and a balcony off. Rusty turned his head and considered the rest of the cabin. Just the one bedroom. Just the one bed.

"There are no other rooms." Terry was back.

"What is this, Christmas Eve?" Rusty frowned.

Terry wasn't listening. "Ridiculous! Apparently, half the rooms aren't ready and the other half are taken." He glared at Rusty. "I am not sharing a bed with you, Ryan. You take the first room."

Rusty grinned. "You feel so strongly, you take it, Terry."

Terry's lips didn't look like they could get any thinner or any tighter. "Don't push it, Ryan. Get out."

Oh, like he was ever going to obey Terry.

"I'm ordering dinner," he told him and went back to studying the menu.

* * *

Terry wasn't talking to him. Which wasn't an altogether unpleasant scenario. Rusty could handle the daggered looks and he could handle the self-importance. It was the small talk he was worried about.

Rusty had settled himself on to the couch and was channel-hopping. Terry had fumed quietly and then installed himself in the easy chair with a copy of the business pages as a visible barrier. Every now and then there was a pointed flick and rustle of newspaper that announced Terry's continuing displeasure at Rusty's presence.

Rusty found "_Trading Places" _and let the movie play then yawned loudly and stretched, kicking his shoes off. With a combination of great good fortune and even greater accuracy, one landed perilously close to Terry's left foot. The wall of newspaper descended and Terry inspected the offending piece of footwear before delivering a look somewhere below Arctic in Rusty's direction.

"If you are planning on continuing the striptease, I suggest your aim improves."

There was an implied "_Or else" _at the end of the sentence that made Rusty doubt Terry was proposing he actually hit him next time. Rusty ignored it. Instead, a smile crept onto his face.

"Strip_tease_? Terry, Terry, Terry." Reproachful. "I'm not that kind of girl."

There was a noise that was a cross between indignation and fury and possibly dyspepsia. The newspaper wall erected itself once more.

Somewhere in his mind's eye, Rusty could see the exasperated look on Danny's face but opened his mouth anyway to continue the baiting. A knock at the door stopped him.

"Go see who that is," Terry instructed, not showing the slightest inclination to put down the paper and move himself.

Rusty shot him an amused look and went to the door. Because he wanted to. Not because he was being told to. Maybe it was Danny, unable to handle limitless imagination galloping riot. Maybe it was Klareese with the next step in this live game. Or maybe…

"Room service!" announced the bright-eyed waiter sashaying into the room with a trayload of food which he put down on the sidetable.

"Thanks." Rusty tipped him and then frowned at the tray and pointed. "This isn't ours."

"Our compliments, sir," the waiter said, withdrawing with what looked suspiciously like a smirk and a final whisper. "It goes with the room."

_With the…_

"What is it?" Terry wanted to know. Of course he wanted to know. Terry was on a want to know basis.

"They've brought us champagne."

"Probably to apologise for that first room," Terry said dismissively, turning his attention towards the food. "Quite right."

Rusty picked up the welcome literature from the table and blinked. Terry's words of complaint to Javier played through his head and the misunderstanding crystallised.

"Terry…"

"What?" Terry snapped.

Silently, Rusty held out the brightly coloured glossy brochure with the words _"Welcome to the Honeymoon Suite"_ on the front.

"Hope I'm the groom," Rusty murmured and watched the colour in Terry's face drain and then burn fiercely.


	5. Chapter 5

On Board by InSilva

Disclaimer: none of them are mine.

* * *

Rusty sat on the couch and sipped the champagne and idly wondered how many lives repressed apoplexy had claimed. Judging by Terry's expression, there could be one more any time soon. He waited for Terry to move through one more cycle of fury and then sighed inwardly. As fun as this was…

"Terry, sit down."

"What?" Terry looked as if he couldn't believe his ears. "You think you can give me orders?"

"Get over yourself, Terry." Rusty's eyes were bright and not taking any nonsense.

Terry's eyes narrowed and his jaw set. "Anything you want to say to me, Ryan, you can say right now. I'm not a performing monkey."

Rusty's eyes widened slightly. Oh, that was an image he'd have to take back to Danny. He gave himself a mental shake.

"Look. This is a live scenario, right? We're supposed to be experiencing what our hotel customers might experience."

Terry lacked many things but acumen wasn't one of them. Rusty would swear that he could see the cogs going round.

"So they shove us in a shithole because there are shitholes out there. It was staged." Terry frowned. "And now we're here because…?"

Rusty shrugged. "Sometimes reservations get screwed up. Sometimes people end up with a double instead of a twin or a room on the forty-second floor when they've got vertigo."

Terry grunted and Rusty could suddenly see this conversation being replayed with Terry cast in the role of enlightener.

"So it's a waiting game," Terry said finally. "To find out what's next."

"Looks that way."

Another grunt. Terry fixed the tray of room service with a baleful glare as if it was lying in wait to ambush him. Rusty's lips twitched. Well, he, for one, was willing to chance the food. As he stood up and moved towards the tray, Terry automatically took a step back and away and then covered the movement by an abrupt turn towards the bedroom with the ensuite.

"I don't put my life on hold for anything or anyone. I don't much care what you do with your evening, Ryan, but it had better not disturb me. I intend to shower and sleep."

Rusty watched him go and then stared hungrily at the tray. _He_ intended to eat.

* * *

Scooping the last bit of crème brulee out of the pot, Rusty walked around the room and took in all the little complimentary touches. A box of chocolates; a selection of candles; a make-up kit with lipsticks and nail polishes… He absentmindedly ate a couple of truffles and filled in the clipboard. Top marks for the extras.

Form complete, he looked thoughtfully at the door to the bedroom. Somewhere distant, Danny was giving him a stern look and maybe Rusty would have to apologise at some point but right now? Right now, the opportunity was too good to miss.

Terry was dressed in burgundy pyjamas and climbing into bed as Rusty opened the door. Rusty let out a low wolf-whistle.

"Looking good, Terry."

Terry glared. "Don't get any ideas, Ryan. There's a perfectly good couch out there."

Rusty ignored him and headed towards the bathroom with his holdall.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Rusty stopped and turned with exaggerated slowness. Terry was levelling the same suspicious look at Rusty as he had done at the tray of food.

"I'm going to take a shower. You didn't use all the towels, did you?"

Not waiting for an answer, he walked into the bathroom and locked the door. There were clean towels. And that was a relief.

* * *

Shower over, teeth brushed, Rusty walked out, towel wrapped around his waist and found that Terry had seemingly spent the last twenty minutes sitting in the bed and staring at the door, waiting for him to emerge.

"You took your time," Terry began.

"You _are_ an eager bride," Rusty murmured.

Terry scowled but as Rusty walked straight towards the bed, the biting comeback morphed into "What do you think you're doing? Hey!"

The latter was probably more high-pitched than Terry intended. Rusty stopped hallway through pulling back the sheets.

"I'm getting into bed."

"I told you-"

"I know what you told me." Rusty invested the words with the scorn Terry deserved.

Terry was bolt-upright and clutching the sheets to him.

"_Nervous_ bride," Rusty corrected himself. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle."

"I am _not_ sharing a bed with you, Ryan! I don't know _what _Bohemian arrangements you and Ocean subscribe to but I can assure you-"

"If you don't want to," Rusty interrupted, "that's fine. There's a perfectly good couch out there, remember."

"I'm warning you, Ryan-"

"I feel you're about to say this bed isn't big enough for the two of us." In one swift and fluid movement, he'd slipped under the sheets and dropped the towel onto the floor. "I think you'll find it is."

Terry's face was in danger of matching his pyjamas and Rusty found himself idly wondering if he was actually going to have a heart attack. Now that would be a difficult one to explain to the coroner.

"_I was trying to provoke the deceased in the best way I knew how."_

Actually, forget the coroner. Explaining to Danny what he was doing in bed with Terry in the first place would be the problem.

There seemed to be a thousand things that Terry wanted to say. Rusty rolled over on to his left side and smiled at him cheerfully.

"You're actually…I mean you're not…" Terry swallowed. "You're not wearing…"

Rusty's grin widened. Terry physically recoiled.

"You are beyond words, Ryan!"

He leapt out of the bed, grabbed a coverlet and stormed off to the living area.

"Terry?" Rusty called after him. "You getting breakfast in the morning, I like my eggs over easy."

A loud snort was his only reply.

Having won the territorial, Rusty lounged in the bed and savoured his victory. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of shaving off one of Terry's eyebrows while he slept but somewhere the Danny voice was insisting that he be content with having given Terry the least comfortable night of his life since they'd robbed the three casinos.

_Spoilsport, _he pouted and settled himself down for the night.

* * *

No EHOA surprises were forthcoming by the time Rusty yawned himself awake. He washed and dressed quickly and walked out of the bedroom to find Terry lying awkwardly on the couch, arms stuck straight out in front of him, legs hanging over the side.

Rusty tilted his head on one side. Terry was sound asleep, probably dreaming of his next million. It seemed a shame not to take a _little_ bit of advantage of the situation.

* * *

Danny hadn't slept well at all. Despite Rusty's assurances, despite knowing that Rusty was capable of giving as good as he got, it hadn't stopped Danny coming up with a hundred different ways where Terry came out on top. All of which meant that he didn't actually leap to his feet when Rusty walked into the conference room, but he couldn't hide the relief in his eyes.

"I'm not sure I should be speaking to you," Rusty murmured as he dropped the clipboard on the table and took his seat beside him.

_Because…?_

Rusty shrugged. "You wouldn't let me shave off one of Terry's eyebrows."

"No, I wouldn't," Danny agreed fervently.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Rusty nodded. "So I didn't bother asking you about the-"

Terry arrived, surrounded by a small thundercloud and sat down opposite. His eyebrows were indeed intact.

"About the what?" Danny murmured _sotto voce._ Forewarned was forearmed.

Terry leant across the table. "Congratulations. You're a dead man."

He sat back down in his seat as the threat completely failed to terrify and as Klareese called them all to order by asking for the clipboards. Danny took advantage of the general hubbub to double check.

"Are we right not to be frightened of Terry?"

_Do you really need the answer to that question?_

_What did you _do?

"You know how we always feel Terry lacks a little colour in his life?"

Danny frowned and a wisp of an idea ran through his brain.

"So, on a scale of 1 to 10-"

"About 48," Rusty nodded.

Right. Danny exhaled slowly. That was a positive apocalypse of Terryanger.

"Terry! Rusty!" Klareese beamed at them both. "What happened to you two last night?"

Terry and Rusty exchanged looks. To be precise, a scowl and a grin. Klareese continued obliviously.

"I came to find you at the first cabin to collect your clipboard and take you to your actual rooms but you weren't there."

"You weren't there?" Danny couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. Peter and he had taken about half an hour to find all the staged faults before Klareese had taken them to their individual cabins. "Where were you?"

Rusty's eyes were on Terry's and Danny could see the challenge in Terry's face. He sighed inwardly. Rusty _never_ backed down from a challenge.

"Honeymoon Suite," Rusty said matter-of-factly and Danny drew on all his years of poker-playing not to react. "Didn't realise it wasn't meant to be."

"Well, as long as you slept OK…" Klareese moved over to the flipchart and started writing up the agenda for the second day.

Danny needed supplementary. "Honeymoon Suite?"

"Don't worry, it's not going to last." Rusty smiled at Terry. "Irreconcilable differences."

"Enough!" Terry hissed, pointing a fierce finger at Rusty.

Danny was transfixed by the electric blue nail polish. Terry caught his gaze and balled his hands into fists.

Danny half-opened his mouth.

"Toes as well," Rusty confirmed.

* * *

The rest of the seminar was uneventful. Terry said little and sat tight-lipped during the sessions and avoided them at the breaks. When it came to wrapping up, Terry finally confronted the pair of them.

"I warned you. I warned you both. And still you imagine that you can humiliate me with impunity."

"Humiliate you? Is that what we're doing?" Danny asked Rusty.

"Apparently."

Terry flicked them a humourless smile. "You're very brave or very foolish. I think the latter."

He turned to go.

"Terry? We're fools with camera phones."

Slowly, Terry turned on his heel. Rusty held up the evidence.

"Huh," Danny blinked. "He's going the same colour as his pyjamas."

"Is that nail polish?" Peter Byram appeared and as Terry immediately hid his fingernails, added, "No, let me see."

Stiffly, Terry unfolded his hands. Peter solemnly inspected them.

"Wow. Guess you have a fun side to you, Terry. I don't suppose it will hurt to share this with you but I'm part of the panel to decide who becomes President. I think I can genuinely report back that you're a good sport. Excellent sense of humour, too."

Terry's expression moved from fury to smugness in a millisecond.

"Thank you, Peter. I'll see you at the Conference. Would you walk out with me and tell me more about the judging process? I have a few questions."

Rusty watched them leave and gave a forlorn sigh. "Didn't think we'd actually be helping him."

"Never mind," Danny said comfortingly. "We can cheer Reuben up with the photos."

* * *

Terry and Peter were deep in conversation on the deck as the ship docked. Terry's aura of self-satisfaction positively rippled. It seemed that the incident with the nail polish had been not forgotten but maybe overlooked at least. It was no surprise, therefore, that when Peter excused himself and came over to ask if he could speak to Rusty alone, Terry took the opportunity to come to Danny's side to gloat.

"Tell Ryan that he's done me a favour. Seems my star is in the ascendant. Let Tishkoff down gently, won't you?"

He walked away, leaving Danny staring after him.

"Next time, shave his eyebrow off," he muttered as Rusty rejoined him. There was no answer and he turned his head to see Rusty with an unusual expression of shock. "What is it?"

"Peter's lying to Terry."

"He is?" Danny blinked. "Well, good."

"And he's asked me to make a keynote speech at the Conference on the customer service pointers that I outlined."

"Well, good!" Danny's smile was genuine.

_Danny…_

"Good..." Danny's eyes grew distant. "Because then-"

"-we can make sure Reuben wins," Rusty finished slowly.

They smiled. There would be a plan.


	6. Chapter 6

On Board by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, not mine.

A/N: so I lied about the last chapter being the last because there was another little bit of the story that needed to be written. Thanks to ParisAmy for encouraging it with her review. ;)

* * *

_The EHOA Annual Conference…_

Reuben had been a given, of course. They'd needed Livingston and Linus to help them help Reuben and once the twins and Frank had heard that Rusty was making a speech, they'd insisted on front row seats. Yen had sulked volubly at not being included until Danny had given in. After that, it seemed rude not to invite Basher and Saul. The look on Rusty's face when he'd walked into the hotel room and seen everyone looking back at him had been almost worth the subsequent look he'd shot in Danny's direction.

Rusty's speech had been dedicated to Reuben. It was inspirational and earned him a standing ovation. Danny was been one of the first on his feet leading the applause, a genuine smile on his face, despite the fact that he'd heard it several times before, despite the fact that he'd helped write it.

"You recognise the speech patterns?" Saul murmured to Frank as they clapped loudly.

Frank grinned. "Sure do. Guess Rusty didn't have far to look."

Speech over, they'd rendezvoused back at the hotel suite minus Reuben and Rusty who were both detained by EHOA duties.

"How are we looking, Livingston?" Danny asked.

The EHOA members were voting for their next President by electronic handsets. Livingston was monitoring the results and Linus was on standby with an envelope with the right outcome, just in case, ready to swap it out. The way Livingston was smiling, though, Linus wouldn't be needed and Danny was glad about that. They wanted Reuben to win but it was so much better if he won without external intervention.

"Reuben's way ahead," Livingston nodded.

"Good," Danny smiled. That was how it should be. "Stand Linus down."

Duly elected President, Reuben returned to the suite all smiles.

"It's so good that you guys are here to share this," he beamed. "You know Terry tried to overturn this on a technicality? Said I don't actually own a hotel."

Yen pointed out the obvious and Reuben shrugged.

"I've got offers. Actually, I had offers before this. Now I've got _projects_. People want me to call them."

The pride in Reuben made Danny smile. It was obvious that Reuben felt like a player again.

"Where's Rusty?" Turk asked the question that Danny wanted to.

"He's not here?" Reuben looked surprised. "Maybe he got caught up networking."

Danny doubted that somehow. As Basher pushed a glass of champagne into Reuben's hands and the others gathered round Reuben to offer congratulations, he'd already pulled his phone out of his pocket. His fingers were dialling Rusty's number and he was slipping away towards the door when it opened and Rusty stood in the doorway.

_You OK?_

Rusty really wasn't.

"Need to get out of here."

"You mean-"

"Now."

"Right."

Danny looked round. Saul was closest.

"We're going to go. Can you-"

"Make it right with Reuben." Saul nodded. He was looking at the tension in Rusty with curiosity.

"Later," Danny promised, hoping that it wasn't a lie. He needed to find out how much he could share.

Outside and in the corridor, Danny checked his instincts.

"So this is how serious exactly?"

"Serious enough," Rusty said shortly.

"Terry?" Danny asked as they climbed into the elevator.

"No," Rusty replied.

"A mark?"

The elevator doors shut. "No."

"An ex?"

"No." Rusty pushed the button for the lobby.

"Someone not take 'no' for an answer?" Which was a kind of a Rusty occupational hazard.

Rusty shook his head.

Danny looked at him. "Well, _I'm_ certainly not going to start now."

"Peter Byram," Rusty said by way of explanation.

Danny frowned. "Peter…?"

The doors opened and Rusty was pushing his way through to the front doors with startling alacrity: Danny hurried to keep up. Outside, he overtook Rusty, forcing him to stop on the sidewalk.

"Peter Byram," he prompted.

Rusty positively twitched. "He wants me to join the EHOA committee."

_Ah…_

_Satisfied?_

There were things they'd do for Reuben without question. If necessary, they'd steal what mattered to a man in a moment. But some things? Some things were way beyond the pale.

"So what are you waiting for?" Danny demanded briskly. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

A/N: and this is the end. ;)


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